


Improbable

by Ford_Ye_Fiji



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Gen, I AM NERVOUS, I Blame Tumblr, Mainly Phil, Not a lot of Peggy and Steve, Tumblr, Two OCs - Freeform, sorry - Freeform, this is so bad, tumblr theory, very minor OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7562887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ford_Ye_Fiji/pseuds/Ford_Ye_Fiji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Improbable: not likely to be true or to happen: unexpected, likely to be impossible, or apparently inauthentic. </p><p>Phil Coulson was not born in 1964. </p><p>He was born years before that, </p><p>In 1938.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Life and Death of Phil Coulson

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this tumblr post: http://themetapicture.com/the-story-of-agent-phil-coulson/

**1938**

Amidst the last years of Great Depression, Louisa Coulson has a baby boy. She holds her child and smiles through dried tears and sweat. Her husband, Mathew, grips her hand tightly as he watches his son nurse for the first time.

Mathew's not crying.

He really isn't.

(He is.)

Louisa smiles as her child's delicate fingers curl against her.

Her husband grasps her hand tighter as he says breathlessly in disbelief and astonishment, "We made this, didn't we?"

Her grin spreads wider, "Yeah, we did."

**1946**

Philip Coulson runs across the street, cap firmly against his head as he waves enthusiastically at his friends, "Come on!"

They ran down the street, shoes slamming against the pavement and splashing through the mud puddles. Phil turns, garbage lid in hand as he stands with his tiny eight year old fists clenched.

"Alright HYRDA, are you scared of Captain America?"

Phil's best friend skids to a stop beside him, holding a stick and pretending to be Bucky Barnes. He grins at Phil gripping the patriotically painted trashcan lid before turning to the children playing HYRDA and enjoying their game immensely.

At the end of the story, 'Captain America' and his friend end up defeating HYDRA. The others boys take their loss grudgingly, but Phil compromises.

After the battle composed of yelling and mock blows, the former 'HYRDA agents' join the eight year old boy as the Howling commandos. They charge across the street happily with visions of grandeur.

That is until their lead player was called away, by his mother shouting, "Phil!"

"Coming Mom!"

And because Captain America probably would've done so, Phil smiles sheepishly and waves goodbye. He loans his friend the red, white, and blue lid making him promise to return it. Then he scampers off toward his home.

**1955**

Philip Coulson hugs his parents goodbye. His mom is crying openly and kissing his cheeks repeatedly. His dad is sniffing and hugs him so tight he that he almost can't breathe.

He waves goodbye, as he climbs into the bus.

He watches the two figures vanish as the bus drives away. He fingers the plastic covered trading cards in his pocket. This has been his dream since he was kid.

Seventeen year old Phil smiles as he looks ahead.

He isn't nervous. He probably should be, but he isn't.

He'd always wanted to join the army.

**1956**

Phil is grinning. He's grinning and he swears there's no way he could have a larger smile. Then he enters the room, and _there_ _she is_. _Right there_ and large as life. _Peggy Carter._

"Thank you, ma'am."

She smiles slightly, red lips pulled across gleaming white teeth, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Agent Coulson."

She stands regally with elegant grey-streaked brown curls, seeming to fill the entire room. How anyone could ever overlook the head of S.H.I.E.L.D. because she was a woman was beyond him.

He wants to ask her about him, about the Captain. What was he like? Was he how the comics described him: good, kind, and humble? Coulson didn't say anything. _Comics_. He'd sound rather silly saying that.

Peggy cocks her head slightly, surveying the young eighteen year old curiously, "What brings you to S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent?"

He can't resist, "Captain Rogers, Ma'am."

**1960**

Phil hears of the project and leaps forward. He is the first one to volunteer.

He is also the only one.

Apparently, many weren't eager to be subjected to experiments. Many people didn't want to be lab rats. Phil didn't either, but it wasn't about what _he_ wanted.

**1961**

Agent Coulson doesn't have super strength or gleaming pecs. He can't run laps around other stronger people, he didn't have near invulnerability. But somehow, his reflexes had gotten more honed, faster.

The scientists wrote it off as a failure and returned him to the field.

Many would call it a year wasted.

He didn't. He would do anything to protect the world, even if whatever they had discovered did nothing, it was still worth it.

(It _was_ worth it, but he wouldn't know that until later when Bruce Banner attempted to recreate the serum using the notes from an unnamed Agent and Captain America. He still wouldn't regard it as a good thing until the Avengers, years after that.)

**1980**

Agent Coulson was forty-two years old and he still looked like a twenty year old. Not one wrinkle or line since 1961. Not even a scar from his numerous encounters. Nothing.

He didn't say anything, but you could see the Agent's eyes follow him.

They had failed to recreate the super soldier serum. However, somehow, they'd gotten a few things right.

(Coulson wasn't aware of it, but they got a few more things right also. In fact, Dr. Erskine's favorite part: the magnification of moral fiber, taking the loyalty and selflessness of a loyal and selfless man and making him into something _spectacular_.)

**1981**

Coulson attended his mother's funeral. His father stood off to the side. When his relatives started whispering, his father glared at them and moved closer.

Late that night his dad sat hunched in his chair and asked him what had happened. Why did he still look like he was in the height of his youth? Like a memory frozen in time, as if he'd only just waved goodbye to his son from the window of the bus that took him off to boot camp.

Coulson didn't answer.

His father patted his shoulder with a shaking wrinkled hand, "That's alright, son. I understand."

**1985**

He attended his father's funeral.

He was the only one there.

**2012**

Agent Coulson saw Captain America, his boyhood hero, revived from the ice that had imprisoned America's symbol for so long.

Phil met him in person and then died a few days later.

All in all, it had been a good few months, with him seeing the forming of the Avengers. The rise of legends, if only they could bring it upon themselves to work together.

One of his last thoughts was that he never did get the Captain to sign his vintage trading cards. His almost sixty-seven year old cards.

Ones that he'd bought when they'd first come out.


	2. And the unexpected resurrection of Agent Coulson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! I'd love to hear your thoughts! :D  
> (And yes, it's short. I couldn't figure out how to lengthen it so I just went with it.)

He woke a few days later, the ceiling blurring strangely. Phil turned slightly, or tried too, but his limbs felt like lead weights. The last time he'd felt this bad was back in 1982.

Periodic beeps emitted from around him and he squinted as the strangely whitewashed world came into focus. A tall blond figure was sitting against the wall.

Steve Rogers sat beside his hospital bed, reading some sort of manila file.

"Rogers?"

Captain America looked up, "1938, Agent Coulson? You were born in 1938?"

Steve knew.

Phil nodded slightly, wincing at the pain that seemed to flare through his head. His slight healing factor must've somehow contributed to saving him. That must've been it.

"Those vintage cards... You didn't buy them vintage, Phil, did you."

It wasn't a question, but there's no accusatory tone, nothing. Just quiet curiosity and a somehow faint hope for something or someone- _anyone_ , from his own time. There's also guilt for thinking that, for wishing someone might suffer his same fate. The agent doesn't blame him for that though. He's thought it himself sometimes.

However, all of this information files away in his subconscious because Coulson only registers that his childhood hero has called him by his first name.

"No, sir. I didn't."


End file.
